


in this hole (I've fallen down)

by kilgraves



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Blood, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Riding, Self-Hatred, Sexual Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 13:36:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1306753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kilgraves/pseuds/kilgraves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles doesn't struggle or fight.</p><p>There's no point, not anymore, and he's not even sure whether or not this is real. It doesn't feel real, so he tells himself - over and over again - that it isn't, that it <em>can't </em>be. Even as he - no, no, <em>it</em>, he means <em>'it'</em> - drives in deeper, making him feel like his heart is going to beat clean out of his chest, it doesn't matter.</p><p>(<em>Because it's not fucking real</em>.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	in this hole (I've fallen down)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this based on [a post](http://mclaheyed.tumblr.com/post/79228519370/i-dont-want-stilinski-twins-but-i-want-void-stiles) I saw after 3x22 aired. It's pretty dark, but I had to do it, you know? I like writing stuff involving the nogitsune/void and Stiles's mental state.
> 
> I can always be found [here](http://snugglyscisaac.tumblr.com) on Tumblr.

Stiles doesn't struggle or fight.

There's no point, not anymore, and he's not even sure whether or not this is real. It doesn't feel real, so he tells himself - over and over again - that it isn't, that it  _can't_ be. Even as he - no, no,  _it_ , he means ' _it_ ' - drives in deeper, making him feel like his heart is going to beat clean out of his chest, it doesn't matter.

( _Because it's not fucking real_.)

Void is everywhere, all around him, and he can't get away from it no matter what he does. When it cuts him, he doesn't feel anything. When he tries to scream, it clamps an iron hand over his mouth and laughs. 

 _His_ laugh.  _His_  body.

Him _._ ( ** _Void_.** )

Nothing _._ ( ** _Darkness_.** )

It fucks into him with brutal thrusts, yanking whimpers of pain out of his bruised lips with each movement. It drags razor sharp nails down his torso, smiling at the angry red marks they leave behind on his pale skin. Everything about this is wrong,  _beyond_ wrong, but he doesn't try to stop it. 

And all the while, every time the nogitsune slams into him, making him cry out even as he begs for more, it's  _feeding_  off of him. His confusion, his apathy, his pain - it loves the chaos. Stiles's eyes are unfocused, his whole body limp as it buries itself inside, deep, deep,  _deep_  until he doesn't even have the energy to cry. It's like any chance he ever had of escaping it is gone, burned away and then fucked back into him again. The smell of sweat and come is heavy in the air, and when it meets his eyes, he squeezes his own shut. 

(It's not real. It's not real.  _It's not real._ ) 

"You know what this means, don't you?" It asks, and even though it's his own voice, it still sends shivers down his spine. Leaning in close, it licks its way across his collarbone, whispering, "It means we'll always be one, you and I. You'll never be able to get rid of me now, Stiles."

He just shakes his head, biting into his bottom lip and drawing blood. "I don't care, I don't-," ( _Shut up._ ) "I don't  _care_ , just-," ( _ **Shut up.**_ ) "Fuck, just don't - don't stop." He meets its gaze to see that it's smirking down at him. "Make me come."

(None of this is real.)

It presses cold hands to his torso, eyes rolling back in its head as it drinks in all of his conflicting emotions. "You have no idea how amazing you taste - your pain, it's  _so_  good." 

Stiles's face is wet and he can't tell whether it's sweat or tears or even blood. He knows he's bleeding because the nogitsune's hands -  _his_ hands - are tinged with sticky redness, and he's so dizzy. 

When it flips them over and tells him to ride its cock, he goes with it, does what it says because the ache in his groin is unbearable and he needs to come. His knees burn as he forces himself up, down, up, down, listening to it hiss every time he sinks down all the way. 

( _WakeUpWakeUp **WakeUp**_ )

"That's it, Stiles," it murmurs, the words falling from his own lips with dark intensity. "Take what you need, take it all - and give me the rest."

He lets out a weak moan before his body gives out on him and he collapses on top of it, so tired, so  _empty_. He can feel still feel it, slamming up into him, drinking him in with each stabbing thrust. 

When it becomes too much, he finally comes. 

It's long and it hits him like a freight train, knocking all the air out of him as he whimpers and shakes. His vision is blurring and all he can do is cling to the thing he hates most of all as the only solid being in the world. The nogitsune nips at his earlobe, whispering, "Was it good for you?"

He passes out before he can answer. 

\--------

Scott finds him an hour later - the nogitsune's long gone, and Stiles is alone, dried blood and come all over his naked body. "Dude? Stiles - fuck, what happened to you? Wake up. Come on,  _wake up_."

His eyes feel like lead, heavy and useless. His whole body aches and he can't move, not without wincing. When he finally does manage to open his eyes, Scott comes into focus, standing over him and looking scared out of his mind. 

" _S-Scott_?" 

"Yeah," the werewolf murmurs soothingly, pulling Stiles's sheets up to cover his trembling body and sitting down beside him on the bed. "It's me, Stiles. I'm right here - tell me what happened to you." 

But Stiles just shakes his head furiously and backs away from Scott, ignoring the pain that cuts through him like knives. "No," he mutters, hands shaking as he tries to make sense of everything at once. "No, it was a dream. It wasn't real, I didn't - it was just a  _dream_ -," 

When he looks down at himself, he sees the scratches left behind from the nogitsune's nails, sees the dried blood and come stains all over his torso. Purple bruises have bloomed on his hips from where it had gripped them as it rammed into him again and again and no - no,  _please_ , god, no. _  
_

( _"Was it good for you?"_ )

He barely has time to lean over the edge of his bed before the bile finds its way out of his throat, burning as he wretches and chokes on it. Scott's hands are on his shoulders, urgent voice in his ear, but Stiles can't feel any of it. His world is made up of red tinged with black and his own eyes staring back at him, mocking him,  _using_  him. 

All he can manage is a whispered, "I'm so sorry," before the uncontrollable panic takes over. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is my favorite thing in the world, so be sure to leave me some (◠ω◠✿)


End file.
